


Play On

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - She's the Man Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 08:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15215489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: In Clarke's opinion, spite is a good enough reason to do just about anything. Which is why it she adopts a fake name, dons a wig, and transfers to her high school's top rival, all so that she can beat her old school's team in soccer.That totally makes sense. Right?





	Play On

**Author's Note:**

> “If music be the food of love, play on.”  
> -William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night (which is what She’s the Man is based on, which is what this fic is based on)

Clarke will admit that she's going a little far with this one.

On the one hand, it's frankly ridiculous that Alpha Prep cut the women's soccer team in the first place.

They claimed it was because there wasn't enough interest, but Clarke knows how many girls showed up to tryouts. She's the captain; it's her job to know. The real issue is that most of those girls were underclassmen who would have carried the JV team to their own championships, but probably weren't ready for Varsity. The school would rather go without a team for a season than taking the blemish of a bad season on their record, and that's that.

But if Clarke were on the administration, she would have, in that case, at the very least allowed the seasoned women's Varsity players to try out for the men's team. If Clarke had been allowed to participate in their tryouts and hadn't been able to keep up, or hadn't measured up to the other players on the field, she might have accepted her rejection from the men's team fair and square.

(Might have.)

Instead, the coach and the entire men's team-- Finn included-- laughed her off the field. Even dumping him, promptly and thoroughly, hadn't been enough to quell her anger about the whole ordeal.

So she did what any high school senior who needed this season to be noticed by college scouts would do: she transferred to the rival academy to join their soccer team. Their _men's_ team.

"I really think you're overestimating my hacking abilities here," Monty says with equal parts horror and awe as Clarke gets her facial hair applied properly. She looks a little bit more like her cousin Kyle than she would have liked, but it hides the beauty mark above her lip. Which is what she wanted it to do.

"I think you're underestimating how easy this is going to be," she replies, pulling on her wig. She thought about keeping her actual hairstyle but decided she would feel too paranoid that someone would recognize her if she did. She'd also thought about cutting her hair, but she worried that she'd then have the opposite problem: if any of her classmates saw her out and about as her real self, they'd see her and immediately know something fishy was going on.

So she got a wig and fake sideburns and mustache from the internet, learned how to make her chest look flatter than it is (which was an incredible feat), and is now having Monty make her a fake driver's license so she can really sell being Clark Griffin.

"What if you don't make the team?"

"I'm going to make the team."

"I don't think you can actually will that into being, no matter how hard you believe in it."

She scowls at Monty in the mirror. "Whose side are you on?"

"Try that again, but more dude-like."

Clarke's voice is already pretty low for a girl, but she pitches it lower anyway. "Whose side are you on?"

"You sound like you're doing a bad Christian Bale impression."

"You're a bad Christian Bale impression."

"Good one."

"Whose side are you on?" She tries again. Monty bobs his head back and forth.

"You're getting there. Ready for your photo op?"

"Yeah." She adjusts the collar of her polo shirt and turns to face him. "Do I look like a guy?"

"Sure, if I didn't know you already and hadn't watched you stick your mustache on. Go stand over there."

They get the license set up, and then they go out for dinner with Jasper and Wells, where the waitress addresses the table with "you boys", which Clarke counts as a win.

"Good luck," Wells says, hugging her tight. "It's gonna be weird going to a different school for the first time in our lives."

"You'll live," she teases, pulling back. "Thanks for helping me out with all this. I'll let you guys know how it goes."

"You'd better."

Monty goes in for a hug next. "If anyone figures out your transcripts were altered to make you male, I was never involved."

"Involved in what?"

"Exactly."

Jasper salutes her as they drive away, and for the first time she wonders if this was a mistake. If leaving awesome friends behind in their last year of school together was really worth the opportunity to live out a petty revenge fantasy.

Then she remembers how many hours she put in this summer getting ready for her soccer season, how hard she has worked for so long to get to this point, the patronizing expression on Finn's face as he told her _girls_ just aren't as strong or fast as men, like she hadn't kicked his ass every time they'd scrimmaged, and she feels her resolve return.

She's going to join that team, and she's going to help them kick Alpha Prep's ass, and and everything else will work itself out.

* * *

"Bellamy Blake?"

He pulls one earbud out, turning to face the dude in the doorway, who is, presumably, his new roommate.

"Clark, right? Clark Griffin?"

"Yeah. I guess I'm in the right place."

He drops his bag on the spare bed and turns to survey the room while Bellamy surveys him. He's a little on the shorter side with sandy blonde hair and a patchy mustache thing going on, and blue eyes that seem a little wary.

That's to be expected, though. It had to be tough being the new kid, especially at a school as insular as Mecha. Bellamy remembers what it was like, starting here as a scholarship student in ninth grade when all his classmates had known each other since Kindergarten. It makes sense that the new guy is on edge, so he offers him a smile.

"You need help bringing anything in?"

"Huh?" He squeaks, then coughs, pink flooding his cheeks. "I mean... No thanks. It's just a couple more loads. I can get it."

"Yeah but it'll go faster with two people," he points out, grabbing his keys and sliding his feet into some sandals. As they pass Miller's door he bangs on it a couple times and hears a muffled swear on the other side.

"Come meet your replacement," he calls, smiling at Clark, who looks nervous. Miller is scowling when he opens the door but Bellamy just grins and hooks his arm around his neck affectionately. "Clark, this is Miller. Miller, my new roommate, Clark."

"My condolences," Miller says, dry, then shoves Bellamy away. "Get off me."

Clark's mouth twists on one side into the closest thing to a smile Bellamy has seen yet.

"Miller ditched me to room with his boyfriend this year," Bellamy says, casual. It's not really a test, but if Clark is going to be a dick about Bellamy's best friend's sexuality, it's better to get that out in the open now, before Bellamy puts too much effort into befriending him.

But, "Gaming the system?" Is all Clark says before offering Miller his fist. "Nice."

Miller snorts and bumps it. "So you're from Alpha Prep, right?"

"Right." The nervous look returns to Clark's face, but then something inside the room catches his attention. "Is that a Messi jersey?"

"Huh?" Miller turns to look even though Bellamy knows for a fact it's his lucky charm and he makes sure to touch it before every game. "Oh, yeah. You a fan?"

"I'd root for Real Madrid over Barcelona, but I'd root for Messi over anyone else."

"Ireland to win but Krum gets the snitch," Bellamy supplies. Miller rolls his eyes but Clark smiles for real now.

"Yeah, exactly."

"We're going to get the rest of Clark's stuff, but I just wanted to introduce you guys."

"Cool. You guys need a hand?"

Bellamy tosses Clark a glance and he rolls his eyes, shakes his head. "I've learned better than to try to say no."

"Sounds about right," Miller says, pulling the door closed behind them and following them down the hall. Clark's car is silver and compact but much newer than Bellamy's. That, coupled with the fact that Clark transferred from Alpha, makes Bellamy think he'll fit in here just fine, and he probably doesn't need Bellamy to big-brother him into his friend group.

But he and Miller are awesome. Clark should be friends with them anyway.

"Wow, you really like soccer," Miller says, spotting the mesh bag full of eight or nine soccer balls when Clark pops the trunk open. He laughs, but it's strained.

"You have no idea."

"You trying out for the team?"

"That's the plan." He hands Bellamy and Miller each a box, takes the last couple for himself, and follows them back inside and down the hall.

"That's cool. We are too."

Behind him, Miller scoffs. "Bellamy is being modest. He's the captain."

"Which means if you give me any attitude, I can put your ass in morning workouts all semester," he shoots back, tossing Clark a smile. "Seriously though, no special treatment just because you're my roommate."

"It sounds like I'm in more danger of reverse favoritism," he deadpans.

Miller laughs. "Nah, don't worry about him. Blake is all bark and no bite."

"I'll bite you," Bellamy grumbles.

"Promises, promises. Have fun getting unpacked. I'll see you guys at dinner!"

Bellamy flips him off and Miller blows him a kiss before jogging back down the hall to his room, and when Bellamy turns to his new roommate with a sheepish smile, he's got amusement written all over his face.

"Sorry about-- I should have waited for him to get all his pent-up shit talking from over the summer out of the way before I sprung him on you."

"From what little I've seen, it looks like shit talking is the status quo for your relationship."

Bellamy laughs. "Yeah, okay. That's probably true." He scratches the back of his head, awkward. "So-- welcome to Mecha."

"Thanks." Clark smiles. "I think I'm going to like it here."

* * *

The prospect of rooming with a boy had been daunting to Clarke, but the reality of it is not that different from rooming with a girl.

It's a lot of time in the room where they're together but also strangely alone, where they're each listening to their own music or watching their own TV shows or doing their own studying. Bellamy is neater than Harper was, and Clarke never changes clothes in the room if he's in there, but other than that it's basically the exact same.

Of course, there is the added fact that Bellamy is incredibly attractive-- all firm muscle and freckles and perfect, tousled dark hair-- but Harper was hot too. Still, Bellamy wears shirts significantly less than Harper ever did, and it's becoming somewhat inconvenient for her.

He doesn't wear shirts at practice, and he doesn't wear shirts in the gym, and he almost never has one on when he sleeps, nor after he showers. Clarke worries that he thinks it's weird that she _always_ has a shirt on, but he doesn't even seem to notice, much less ever comment on it.

In short, living with Bellamy is a Lot, but not for the reasons she expected.

"Hey," he says, coming in from a workout in nothing but gym shorts and glistening skin, groaning as he flops down onto the floor. "It's like a million degrees today."

"That's what happens when it's August in the south," she teases, flicking her eraser at him. It bounces off his chest and he catches it on instinct, chucking it back in her direction.

"Yeah well I don't like it."

"Join the club." She stretches. "I was going to go grab some dinner. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"Nah," he says, pushing himself up. "I'm good to go now, just let me grab a shirt."

"You don't want to shower first?"

"I'm gonna start sweating again the second I step outside anyway." The shirt sticks to his abs and shoulders when he shrugs it on but he doesn't seem bothered, ruffling his sweaty hair and nodding at Clarke. "Ready?"

"Ready."

They're in the middle of a discussion about the reading list for AP English when Bellamy suddenly staggers and drops back half a step. Clarke turns, worried, but that dissolves into a strange feeling when she sees he isn't hurt, but now suddenly has a brunette clinging to his back.

"-- _menace_ ," he's grumbling, wrapping his hands around the girl's legs and hitching her higher. She's a couple of years younger than they are, from the looks of it, but Clarke can't help feeling jealous anyways. Which is stupid, because he's her roommate and he thinks she's a guy and she's known him for three days. There's absolutely no reason she should be jealous at all.

"O, this is Clark. My new roommate. He's trying out for the team too. Clark, this is my sister Octavia."

Just like that the dark knot in her stomach vanishes, leaving her feeling stupid and embarrassed.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too!" She slides down from Bellamy's back, smirking, and when she does that Clarke can definitely see the family resemblance. "I'm so sorry you have to live with my brother. I only have to share a house with him during the summers, and that's bad enough. I can't imagine--"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm the worst. Miller already did that bit."

"Well, always verify with multiple sources. You know where Lincoln is?"

"No, but I hope you don't find him."

"Dick." She looks to Clarke. "Have you met Lincoln yet?"

"I don't think so."

"You will. He's a midfielder, or he has been for the past couple of seasons. He's also my boyfriend."

"Not yet he's not," Bellamy mutters, glowering. Clarke tries not to smile. Somehow, seeing him with his little sister makes him even cuter. She might really be in trouble.

"It's only a matter of time," Octavia says, waving his objection away. "I'm gonna go check his dorm."

"Girls aren't allowed in the boys' dorms," he calls after her. Clarke's heart stops briefly.

"Like that ever stopped you!" Octavia calls back.

Bellamy chuckles and ducks his head when he sees Clarke watching them, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"You guys seem close."

His shrug is awkward, like he isn't sure about what he's going to say next. Clarke almost changes the subject to give him an out, but then he says, "My mom worked a lot and left me to babysit most nights. It was kind of a... weird dynamic for me and O, where I was more of an authority figure than just a brother. But things got a lot easier between us when we started here. There were other adults-- real adults-- around to watch her, and we could both kind of get some distance."

He shoots her a rueful smile. "Sorry. I usually wait for someone to ask about my tragic backstory before I just start unloading it on them."

Clarke rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with her own.

"Come on, I was clearly trying to restrain my curiosity."

He bumps her back.

"So what about you, then? Am I allowed to be curious now?"

Clarke's heart stops. "What do you want to know?"

"Why'd you transfer to Mecha your senior year?"

She considers for a moment, then goes with, "Bad breakup."

"So bad you felt like you had to switch schools?"

"My ex-boyfriend is on the soccer team."

Bellamy makes a sympathetic noise. "You didn't want to have to see him every day."

"But I still wanted to get scouted for colleges," she confirms. Then adds, "And there might have been some spite involved. I'm really looking forward to crushing them when we play."

"About that..." He trails off, not making eye contact again, and rubs the back of his neck like he had before. Clarke is starting to pick up on his tells. This one means embarrassment.

"What?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Don't get me wrong. You've got really good ball-handling skills. And you're clearly a smart player. You know how to get open for your teammates, have a good sense for your opponents' weaknesses..."

"But?"

" _But_ ," he says, exasperated now. "I think you need to put in some more hours off the field. Specifically strength training. If you can't get more power behind your kicks, I'm not sure you're going to get to see any playing time against Alpha Prep. Or much for scouts to see."

Clarke's blood runs cold. She can't have come this far just to lose now.

"Strength training," she repeats, numb.

"I'm talking weights."

"I've never done much with weights."

"Well, I'm no expert, but Lincoln is. O's non-boyfriend? I can introduce you guys. Or you're welcome to come with me when I hit the gym, see if there's anything worth picking up from my routine."

Clarke thinks back to the defined ridges of his chest and abdomen, the solidness of the arm swinging next to her, the bulk of him filling out his t-shirt. Seeing his muscles on the regular has been a lot to get used to. Seeing them in action might actually kill her.

On the other hand, she refuses to spend this season on the bench.

"Sounds good to me," she says, determined. "Thanks for the tip."

"No problem." He bumps her arm again, companionable. "Friends enable friends' spite-based plans, right?"

Clarke has to laugh. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what friends are for."

* * *

Bellamy will say this for Clark Griffin: he's nothing if not stubborn.

He wasn't honestly expecting much to come from their chat. A lot of players talk a good game about working out and spending time digging into their weak areas, but not that many follow through. But Clark takes this (and everything else) seriously. When Bellamy rolls out of bed the next morning, ready to hit the weight room before his first class, Clark is already returning from the bathroom, fully dressed for a workout.

"Are you sure you're not trying to murder me?" Clark grumbles into his bedding, having collapsed the moment they got back to the room.

"What's my motive?" Bellamy laughs.

"I die, you get a single."

"You know, that's not a bad idea. I could turn your side into a home theater. Or maybe put in an above-ground pool." Clark grunts but doesn't move as Bellamy grabs his towel and shower flip-flops.

"Come on man, the Bio lab stinks enough as it is. You don't want to walk in there smelling rank."

"I don't think I can physically move my legs without a lot of concentration," he huffs, pushing himself onto his back and closing his eyes from the effort. "My muscles are jelly. I think this is a scam. No way does jelly turn into--" he waves his hand vaguely. "All of that."

"Well I'm gonna shower. See you there if you can make it."

He hums noncommittally and Bellamy heads out the door. Clark is just trudging into a shower stall when he emerges, still fully clothed, his hair sitting funny on his head.

"You look like shit," Bellamy tells him. He gives him the finger and rips the curtain closed.

Bio lab is one of the only classes Bellamy has with Clark, so they head out together when they're both ready, Miller falling into step with them for a while before peeling off to U.S. History.

"Oh hey," he says suddenly. "I think Raven is back today."

"Who's Raven?"

"She was my lab partner last year. Valedictorian of our class. She's starting the school year a few days late because she was supposed to go on vacation to Aruba with her boyfriend's family or something." He pauses, remembering. "Actually, her boyfriend goes to Alpha Prep. You might know him. Finn Collins?"

Clark misses a step and almost falls down the stairs.

"Finn Collins?" He echoes, voice rising.

"Yeah. You know him?"

"Unfortunately."

Bellamy snorts. He never liked that guy much anyway.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I don't know what Raven sees in him. They've been friends for forever though, dating since they were freshmen, so I have to assume she knows him a little better than I do."

"Yeah." Clark looks like he's going to be sick.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just-- Fuck Finn Collins, honestly."

Bellamy frowns. "Okay, it seems like there's history there. Whatever it is, you're gonna have to give it to me sometime."

"Sometime," he agrees as they round the corner to the classroom, where the door is standing wide open.

Raven is already perched at their usual lab station, messing with the burners and smartmouthing off to Murphy. She smirks at Bellamy when she sees him, her eyes darting to Clark at his side in interest.

"Look what the cat dragged in. Blake. And friend."

"My new roommate." He wraps Raven up in a hug, though she keeps it brief.

"Raven Reyes," she says sticking out her hand.

Clark takes it, still looking queasy.

"Clark Griffin," he says.

Raven's face falls.

Bellamy frowns, about to ask, but is interrupted by Professor Sinclair's entry and the start of class.

Still, the tension between the two of them is tangible for the next hour and he can't help but feel as if he's missing something.

* * *

Clarke tries to make a quick escape from class but Raven catches up to her with no trouble. Partly because she actually knows where she's going and Clarke doesn't quite yet.

"So you're just gonna run away?"

Clarke freezes and turns to face her. "Can we do this somewhere private?"

"Sure." Raven crosses her arms. "Follow me."

She leads them to an empty classroom, pushing herself up onto the teacher's desk and looking at Clarke with a shrewd gaze.

"I can't decide what to ask about first: the Finn thing or the you're-suddenly-a-dude thing."

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," Clarke blurts out, dropping her books on a random desk and sinking down tiredly. "I knew he was a douchebag but I didn't know he was that particular brand of douchebag."

"When did you find out?" Raven asks, voice unreadable.

"On the way over here. Bellamy asked if I knew your boyfriend since I used to go to Alpha. I had a mini heart attack. Pretty sure he knows something's up." She bites her lip. "When did you find out?"

"In Aruba. He was moping. I heard him trying to call you."

"I blocked his number."

"Figures." She cocks her head and looks Clarke up and down again. "Care to explain what the rest of this is about?"

"They cut the women's soccer team at Alpha."

"So why aren't you joining the women's soccer team here?"

"Because they wouldn't even let me try out for the guys' team at Alpha and I wanted to stick it to them?" Clarke's shoulders slump. "It's so stupid."

"Not that stupid." Raven shrugs. "I bet Finn was a dick about the whole thing."

"Definitely."

"And after what he did?" She shrugs. "I don't know how long you can keep this charade up, but I want to help you make it at least to the game against them, if I can."

"Really?" Clarke asks, frowning at her. "You have every right to hate me."

"How often does life hand us opportunities for karmic justice, Clarke?" Raven hops down and walks over to her, resting her hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye. If she were into women and they hadn't both just gotten out of serious relationships with the same guy, it might be a turn-on. "I want to help you pulverize him."

Clarke smiles, sharp.

"Then welcome to the club."

Raven snorts. "The jilted ex-girlfriends club."

"The too-good-for-Finn-Collins club."

"I like that." She grins back. "We should make jackets."

When Clarke gets back to the room that night, Bellamy is waiting up for her and trying not to be obvious about it. He pulls one earbud out of his ear, twirling the cord around his finger.

"Everything okay? You and Raven bolted out of Bio lab like it was about to explode. Which, knowing Raven, is not that implausible."

Clarke gives him an easy smile. She really is quite fond of him.

"Yeah," she sighs, flopping onto her bed, her muscles sore and her soul a little lighter. "Everything is fine."

* * *

Eventually, Bellamy gets the full story from Raven: that she'd found out Finn had another girlfriend on their vacation. That she'd seen pictures of the girlfriend with Clark and thought he was one of Finn's asshole friends trying to cover for him. That Clark had promised he hadn't known about Raven until Bellamy mentioned it on the walk to class.

"Want me to foul him in the game next week?" He offers. "I can make it look like an accident."

"Nah," Raven laughs, throwing a pencil at him. Their own form of aggressive affection. "I've got a revenge plan in the works. But if anything changes, you'll be the first to know."

"That sounds terrifying and I absolutely don't want any more details."

"The less you know, the better," she confirms.

As for Clark, he seems to be thriving at Mecha. He's keeping up academically and getting better on the field, thanks to the extra sessions with Bellamy in the gym. He and Raven are thick as thieves, the guys on the team like him, even Murphy takes a shine to him. And Murphy hates everyone.

Bellamy has yet to really see Clark in distress.

Until his mother calls and throws him off his game.

He's sitting at his desk, head in hands, when Bellamy gets back to the room, staring down at his laptop like it has either all the answers to the universe's questions, or the worst news he's ever received.

"You okay?" Bellamy asks, swinging the door shut.

"Not really, no." He sighs and drops his head to the keyboard. An infinite string of the letter j begins to fill the near-empty Word doc.

"Anything I can do?"

"The Junior League is having a carnival."

Bellamy frowns. "Yeah, that sounds rough."

"My mom is making me work the kissing booth."

Bellamy grins. "I'm starting to see the problem here."

"Do you _know_ how many diseases I could get from a one hour shift?"

"Do you get to kiss any guys or is it heteronormative?"

"Whoever pays, I think." Clark picks his head up and shrugs. "But I'm bi so it doesn't really matter. I just really don't want to go. My ex is gonna be there, and my mom is pimping me out to strangers and I have soccer to focus on--"

"Dude, you can take one night off from soccer," Bellamy tells him, rolling his eyes. "And since I'm such a selfless friend, who definitely doesn't want to make fun of you at all, I'll come with you. I bet Miller and Raven would come too."

Clark pales.

"No, really. You don't have to. It's going to be super boring."

"I bet there will be something fun to do. Or something we can make fun of." He snaps his fingers, faux realization on his face. "Like watching you at the kissing booth."

Clark groans and drops his head to the desk again. "I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

Bellamy grins and spins around in his chair, ready to settle in on his homework.

"Not a chance."

* * *

"I never should have opened my big mouth," Clarke mutters into the phone. "Now I have to be boy-Clark and girl-Clarke _both_. At the _same_. _Time_."

"It won't be that bad," Wells says, though there's a gleeful note to his voice that tells Clarke how much he's enjoying this. "Monty and Jasper and I will come and distract them while you have to be girl-Clarke, and while you're a boy you can just keep away from your mom and be fine. Besides, you said Raven already knows, right?"

"Yeah, but Bellamy doesn't!"

"Ahh," Wells says, in a way that Clarke really doesn't like. "So that's what this is about."

"What."

"You have a crush on your roommate."

Clarke sighs. She's been doing that a lot lately. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Only to someone who's known you your whole life, yeah. If Bellamy hasn't figured out you're a girl, there's no way he knows you're into him."

"This is going to be a train wreck."

"Yep," he agrees. "I can't wait."

By the time they get to the carnival, it's packed with people, which will at least make avoiding Finn and her mother easier. Jasper and Monty volunteer for Finn interference, while Raven and Wells plan to tag-team keeping Bellamy and Miller away from the kissing booth during Clarke's shift.

She really owes them all a lot.

For the most part, it's not that bad. There are a couple of close calls with Finn, but Raven tells Bellamy she doesn't want to see him and it's easy to steer their group away after that. Abby is working one of the ticket booths, but not the one they came in. Clarke will drop by to see her after her costume change, to prove that she's doing her daughterly duties and stave off any chance that Abby will try to drop in on her at school and catch her in the act.

It's so well-planned, that Clarke actually starts to have fun with her friends. The kissing booth shift sucks, obviously, but most people feel too awkward to buy a ticket anyway, so it's largely just standing around in a dress looking bored.

Of course, the plan falls apart when Bellamy steps up onto the stage, ticket in hand.

Clarke straightens. Her palms are suddenly sweaty.

"Got your ticket?" She asks in the most normal voice she can muster, hoping it doesn't sound so much like her other persona that he notices. Although-- she looks just like herself. She can't hide that.

Bellamy obviously sees it too. He looks her up and down, confusion on his face.

"I'm looking for-- Clark?"

"He's on his break," she lies, shifting from foot to foot. Maybe she can do a quick change somewhere nearby. If she gets to kiss Bellamy, it might be worth it. "You've got me instead."

"You look.... just like him."

"We're twins."

The lie comes out of nowhere and she almost winces. Now Clark will have another thing to answer for.

"Oh." His eyebrows fly up. "I didn't know-- He never said--" He swallows and looks her up and down again. For the first time, Clarke wonders if he's not noticing the similarities to her 'twin brother' but... checking her out?

Is that possible?

"I'm his roommate, Bellamy," he says, holding out his hand to shake. "I bought a ticket to mess with him, but if he's not here--"

Disappointment swoops in her stomach.

"I'll tell him you came by."

"Thanks." He taps the ticket against his palm. "Well. Nice to meet you."

"You did buy a ticket," she blurts as he turns to walk away. He turns back, his face flushed. "I mean." She swallows. "It shouldn't be a complete waste."

He looks around. For what? Clark? A hidden camera?

Finding nothing, he takes a tentative step back toward her.

"Your brother was really not into the idea of working this booth," he says with that wry smile she loves.

(Loves? Shit.)

"I haven't had to kiss anyone yet tonight," she says, holding a hand out for his ticket. "No pressure, but it's starting to go to my ego."

Bellamy's crooked smile grows and he places the ticket in her palm, electricity tingling between them where their skin brushes.

"Well, if it's for your ego."

And then he's closing the space between them. His lips are soft on hers, pressed together long enough to make her head spin, but not long enough she gets a chance to slip him some tongue. He pulls back before she's quite ready for it, still a little bit lightheaded, and when she opens her eyes he's staring back at her with a hooded gaze of his own.

"How's the ego now?" He asks.

Clarke wants to tell him it could use a little more fluffing. Wants to sink her hands into his hair and pull him back in for more.

But before she gets the chance, someone is pulling Bellamy away from her and decking him in the face.

"Finn, what the hell!"

"Get away from my girlfriend, Blake," Finn growls. Bellamy, who had staggered a step or two back but doesn't appear seriously hurt, glares at him all of a sudden.

"From the way I understand it, she's not your girlfriend anymore. And neither is Raven."

Before Finn can lunge at Bellamy again, Clarke puts herself between them, her hands curled into fists.

"It's over, Finn. I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you. And I can kiss whoever the hell I want."

"Babe, please," Finn says, a puppydog expression on his face. Clarke can _feel_ Bellamy rolling his eyes behind her. "Give me a chance to explain."

"I don't want an explanation or an apology. I want you to leave me alone."

"Cl--"

"There you are!"

Before Finn can say her name and blow her cover in front of Bellamy, Jasper and Monty rush onstage.

"I'm so sorry," Monty tells her as Jasper shepherds Finn away. "Jasper got distracted by cotton candy and then we lost him."

"It's fine." Clarke waves him off, looking up at Bellamy's slightly battered face. "Minimal damage done, right?"

"Probably did more damage to his hand than to my face," Bellamy scoffs. Clarke grins and he blinks at her, dazed.

"I'm not sure he's ever thrown a punch before. I hope it hurt."

"Yeah, it probably did."

"Well, I'm glad," Monty says, looking over his shoulder at Jasper, who is struggling to get Finn under control. "I'm gonna--"

"Go. And thanks."

"Anytime."

Bellamy walks Clarke offstage in the other direction, hovering behind her to shield her from Finn's gaze.

"I'm really sorry you got caught up in this."

"Forget about him," he says, gruff. Whatever moment had happened between them, it has long since passed. "He's not worth worrying over."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have gotten punched for it." Unthinking, she takes ahold of his chin, tilting his face to study the bruise forming on his cheekbone. "Does it hurt?"

"I'm fine." His fingers close gently around her wrist and he tugs her hand away, offering a polite smile. "I'm gonna go find my friends. When you see your brother, tell him we're headed toward the Ferris wheel, okay?"

An odd feeling churns in her gut.

"Will do."

"You're welcome to join us."

"Thanks," she smiles. "But I've got friends of my own to meet up with."

He nods and steps away. "See you around, I guess."

"Bye."

She spends the rest of her shift hiding backstage. Her mother will have heard about the fight with Finn by now, and will already be livid with her. Clarke ditching the rest of her shift can't make her that much angrier, and this way she doesn't have to kiss any strangers.

It's not like any of them are going to measure up to Bellamy anyway.

* * *

"Hey, so, uh-- something weird happened tonight."

Clark's bedsprings squeak in the darkness as he turns to look at Bellamy, who continues staring up at the ceiling.

"Weirder than a Junior League carnival?"

"I sort of-- kissed your sister."

"Yeah?" Clark's voice sounds weird but Bellamy is glad he can't see his expression in the dark. "How'd that happen?"

Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face. "I bought a ticket at the kissing booth. I was gonna, like-- kiss you on the cheek. Get a front row seat to the awkwardness. But I guess I showed up while I was on your break, and... she was there instead."

He pauses, trying not to think about her curves in that dress or the soft waves in her hair or the beauty mark above her lip or the way she tasted like possibility. He knows lots of girls he would call beautiful, and has even kissed some of them before. There's no reason Clark's sister should be affecting him this way, except that it was a really nice kiss, and he'd like to do it again.

"I didn't even get her name," he confesses, when Clark still doesn't speak.

Now, though, he snorts.

"Dude."

"I know. It all happened so fast, and then Finn punched me--"

"That's why Finn punched you?" He laughs. "I figured you provoked him. Seemed like you were looking for a fight."

Bellamy smiles, glad, at least, that things between him and Clark still seem okay.

"That does sound like me," he admits. "But no. He took the first and only swing, then your sister--"

"Claire."

"Claire got between us. Stopped him from swinging again." He pauses. "How come you never mentioned you had a sister?"

"I haven't mentioned that?" Clark asks, voice weird again. "I don't know how it hasn't come up."

"Yeah, seriously. She seemed cool."

"I don't need any details about you kissing her, now or ever."

"Deal." He rolls over, facing Clark now. He can just make him out in the dark and his heart sort of lurches. Bellamy hasn't been attracted to a guy before, but he's never been as close with one as he is with Clark. Even with Miller, it's different. Still, he's not sure if he likes Clark that way or if it's just a solid friendship.

He hadn't been _disappointed_ to kiss Claire, but-- he might have been disappointed to have been deprived the chance to see what kissing Clark was like.

Though there are less creepy ways of finding that out than paying for a kiss from a kissing booth.

"No wonder Raven recognized you from pictures with Finn's other woman," he muses in the dark. "You guys look so much alike it's trippy."

"We get that a lot."

Bellamy hums, his eyes drifting shut. The last thing he sees before he falls asleep is a familiar pair of blue eyes and the tilt of lips teasing him, though whether they belong to Clark or Claire, he's too far gone to tell.

* * *

Clarke is all nerves the morning of the game against her old school, and for more than one reason.

First, there's Bellamy, whom she is crazy about and wants to kiss silly, but has no idea if he's interested in any version of her at all. Not to mention the way she fears he will react when he finds out who she is, which she's going to break down and tell him soon.

Then there's the realization-- all of a sudden-- that she knows every member of the Alpha team, and knows them pretty well. Forget worrying about whether Mecha can beat them; Clarke is downright terrified one of the Alpha Prep players will _recognize her_.

"You're just thinking about this now?" Raven asks, lifting one perfectly manicured eyebrow at Clarke in the mirror. Clarke glares at her and dabs more red paint onto her face. There's really no reason to go this all-out with the team spirit except that she's freaking out more than a little. And it might help mask her identity.

Maybe.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I've really been taking this plan one day at a time," she mutters.

"No, I can tell."

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Raven shakes her head and sighs. "You're going to be fine. You're starting. The team is good this year. And you've got a month and a half's worth of pent-up spite to unleash. Plus, if we don't beat them now, you get to play them again in the tournaments at the end of the season."

Clarke's stomach lurches.

"I don't know if I can make it that long."

Raven gets up and comes over to lean against the dresser beside Clarke, studying her with an inescapable, canny gaze.

"You ever thought about just telling him?"

"Telling who what?" Clarke asks, though she's pretty sure she knows.

"Telling Bellamy that you're you. Telling the team you're a girl."

"They might not let me play."

"You made the team fair and square. You proved you deserve a place on it. If nothing else, Bellamy would fight them to let you stay."

Clarke wets her lips. They taste like chalk and paint.

"What if he hates me?"

"He won't hate you," Raven says, so easy Clarke's breath catches. "You're one of his best friends. And he's incapable of holding grudges. I think Octavia got all those genes."

Clarke laughs shallowly and leans against Raven, the most like a hug she can manage without staining any of Raven's clothes.

"You're the best, you know that?"

"Oh, I'm well aware." She smacks Clarke's ass and steps away. "Now go win this game."

"If you insist."

None of the other guys are dressed when they arrive at the locker room, but more than one of them ask Clarke if she did her own face paint, and could she do theirs too? Bellamy shakes his head when he sees it but she grins and says, "School spirit is important, Bellamy," and he lets her do some stripes across his cheek.

It's really a shame to cover those freckles, but Clarke refuses to pass up the opportunity to get up close and personal with them.

"Nervous?" He asks, looking up at her through his lashes.

She swallows. "How can you tell?"

"You've got your concentration face on," he teases.

"I do not."

"You do too." He clears his throat. Another tell. "It's cute. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

Clarke almost turns a stripe into a chevron, she's so startled.

"Cute?"

"Yeah." As if sensing her confusion, possibly reading it as distress, Bellamy pulls away and stands, shaking his limbs out. "We should go for a celebration dinner after this."

"I thought you and Miller always went out with--"

"I meant just you and me." He flashes her a crooked smile.

"What if we don't win?" She asks dumbly. He laughs.

"Then we can celebrate something else. What do you say?"

"Yeah, of course," Clarke says, still catching up to this conversation. Bellamy's face goes pink, or maybe it's just the stripes she'd painted.

"Cool. It's a date," he says, and jogs out of the locker room toward the field, leaving Clarke behind to wonder what just happened, and feeling certain that Bellamy will need to be informed of who she really is before the night is up.

* * *

The first half of the game is, in Bellamy's professional opinion, a train wreck.

Clark is more than a little off, a few steps behind where he's supposed to be, missing passes, aiming poorly. Bellamy can't tell whether he's flustered or nervous, or some combination of the two. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to ask him out right before the game.

The rest of the Mecha team isn't faring much better. They always get riled up when they're playing Alpha Prep. Rivalries will do that. Sometimes it leads to them bringing their best game. Sometimes, like today, it ends up more of a chaotic energy than a focused one, and hinders more than it helps.

Still, Clark is the only one he's worried about at the moment. When the ref blows the whistle to call the first half (Alpha Prep up three to nothing), Bellamy spots him jogging toward the sidelines and reaches for his arm.

"Hey, Clark. Hold up for a second."

He turns around, blue eyes wide, but before Bellamy can ask what's up-- or apologize for his timing-- another voice interrupts.

"Clark?"

Clark's blue eyes go even wider. Finn is standing a few feet away from them, peering at Clark like he's trying to piece something together.

"Bellamy, I have to tell you something," Clark says under his breath in a rush.

"Clark Griffin?" Finn says again, louder this time. Some of his teammates notice and start to drift over. Miller shadows them. "Wait a second. What's going on? Why are you dressed like that?"

"It's a long story," Clark says, but he's looking at Bellamy, who is feeling more and more out of the loop.

"Is this even legal?" Finn demands, crossing his arms.

Coach Pike finally notices and strolls toward the knot of players lingering on the field. The refs are watching them warily.

"Is _what_ legal?" Bellamy demands. "What am I missing here?"

To his astonishment, Clark reaches up and pulls off his left sideburn, then his right.

"I wanted to tell you," he says, wincing as he rips off his apparently fake mustache. Bellamy barely has time to register the beauty mark before Clark's wig is tumbling off and it's--

"Claire?"

"Who's Claire?" Finn asks, arms crossed. "That right there is Clarke."

Bellamy hears Finn speaking but it doesn't really register. He's too busy trying to reconcile too many things in his mind.

Pike arrives, looks Clarke over, and says, "Somebody tell me what's going on here. Now."

You've been playing a man down this whole time," Finn says. "Might explain why we're currently so far in the lead."

"Someone other than Collins," Pike says, looking to Bellamy, who can't find the words, and then to Clarke. "Griffin, I feel as if you have some insight."

And so Clarke explains. About the women's team at Alpha, about the men's team refusing to give her a tryout. About how she bought a fake ID and fudged some details on her transfer papers-- like her gender, and the spelling of her name-- in order to prove everyone wrong.

"I was going to tell you after the game," she says, turning to Bellamy with a touch of desperation in her voice. In her face. She's so familiar, but so strange all at the same time.

"Easy to say now," Miller says. Clarke drops her head in shame.

"I believe you," says Bellamy. The first words he's spoken since the revelation. Clarke's head snaps up, hope evident. "I just-- don't know what to do with it all yet."

She bites her lip and nods, trying not to show how much that stings. Which he knows, because she's his best friend and he can read her like a book.

"This is all very touching," Finn butts in, somehow having decided he's still relevant here. "But what's the ruling here? Are we getting a rematch or not?"

Bellamy looks at Clarke, then at the refs, who shrug, then at Finn.

"Rematch?" He asks. "Why would you get a rematch? This player made this team on her own merits. She may have faked a name and worn a disguise, but none of that is what earned her this spot. If playing against a woman makes you uncomfortable, feel free to forfeit. Otherwise--"

"Forfeit?" Finn squawks. "Why would _we_ forfeit? We're in the lead!"

"Then get back over to your bench and we'll see you on the field for the second half," Bellamy says, and stalks toward the sidelines.

The rest of his team trails behind him. He hears Clarke and Miller murmuring something to each other-- an apology, maybe. Making nice-- but he can only barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

Pike falls into step with him and Bellamy tenses.

"That was a nice speech back there."

"Coach, I--"

"Save it, Blake." He claps him on the shoulder. "We'll need to have a serious talk with the Principal and Miss Griffin's parents, but I support my students standing up for what they believe in. Both her and you back there."

"Thank you, Coach."

"Don't mention it. Just-- Let's get it together in this second half, alright?"

Bellamy's head is so turned around he doubts their performance will improve much, but he mutters, "Yes sir."

As Pike goes over some of their mistakes from the first half and breaks down the game plan for the second, Clarke sidles up next to Bellamy, pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she listens.

He considers moving away, but that's both juvenile and unproductive. All things considered, he'd rather be here.

"I'm sorry for lying to you," she says in a low voice. A few people around them glance their way, but they were all already looking at Clarke anyway.

"I get it," he says, because he does. But it doesn't make it hurt any less.

Clarke looks around at the team who is not-so-subtly watching them, then pulls Bellamy away, back into the hall that leads to the locker room.

"I swear, I was going to tell you today. Ask Raven. It was tearing me up that--"

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "I said I believed you. Raven knew?"

"I was Finn's other woman and she's a genius. She figured it out."

"And the rest of it-- our friendship. Was that real?"

"Bellamy, of _course_. I didn't fake anything except being a twin and having a mustache. I'm the same person I always was." She's so earnest it begins to crack through the walls he put up when the big reveal began.

"Okay," he says, low. "I forgive you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Clarke." He tosses her an exasperated, fond look. "If that's what you need, then you're forgiven. If it were up to me, I wouldn't make you move out, but I think the school probably will. But we'll still see each other in class and--"

In a split second, she leans forward and captures his lips with her own. It's just as good as the first time he kissed her, only better, because she's not just some random girl he thought was pretty at a carnival. She's Clarke. She's intense and stubborn and too serious, all of which translates to the fervor with which she kisses him at first. Like it's the last kiss she'll ever have. It won't be, if he has anything to say about it.

But she's also brilliant and caring and knows him inside and out, so when he softens the kiss, tempers her passion with romance (because they do have to go play a soccer game in a few minutes; they can't just hide and make out all day), she picks up on it right away. Matches his pace. Figures out the perfect sweep of her tongue that makes him moan, and the light dance of her fingers up his side which make him laugh.

The crowd in the stands bursts into a cheer and it's enough to bring them back to the moment. As the kiss slows and they draw back, Bellamy is struck with a brief flash of worry. Worry that this meant something different to her than it did to him. Worry that she knows him too well to have missed the depth of his feelings for her, since he poured every last ounce of them into that kiss.

Then again, it's been a day of confessions. What's one more to add to the list?

"If you're rethinking dinner tonight, I wanted to do that at least one more time," she says when she finally pulls back.

Bellamy's smile broadens and he tucks a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.

"I'm not rethinking anything."

* * *

"No new roommate yet?"

Clarke jumps up onto the mattress of the bed that used to be hers, grinning over at him, just like she had done so many times before. Unlike before, this time she's wearing shorts that show a lot more leg, a top that shows a lot more curves, and no facial hair. Bellamy likes this version, even if there's a part of him that knows he also wanted to date Clarke even when he thought she was a guy. She's all kinds of confusing for figuring out his sexuality, but he'll keep her anyway.

Also unlike last time, Bellamy responds by tackling her onto her back, making her laugh and squirm and shove at him until he rolls over so that they're laying side by side.

"Not yet," he responds, tracing her fingers before lacing his through them firmly. "I'm hoping they don't give me one. I still dream about that above-ground pool."

Clarke hums and rolls into his side, curling in close. "I guess we only need one bed in here now, huh?"

"Given that you aren't technically allowed anymore, yeah. Just the one will do."

Clarke snorts. "Like that's gonna stop us. Although it will be harder to get up and go work out in the morning if I wake up in bed with you."

"You're still gonna come to the gym with me?" He asks, pleased.

"Duh. Just because we beat Alpha Prep doesn't mean I'm done. I still have college to think about. And I was thinking-- it would really stick it to my old school if we were first in the league this season. Just putting that out there."

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces?"

"I can, and it's amazing."

He laughs and tugs her up for a kiss. "So no sleepovers until the season ends, is that what you're saying?"

Clarke frowns. "I wouldn't go that far."

Bellamy snorts. "Good to know where you draw the line."

"What can I say?" She kisses him again, grinning against his lips. "Some rules are better off broken."


End file.
